Orange Blossoms, Gladiolus and Honeysuckle
by LucanFaronhar
Summary: Drostan (Scotland) has been pretty lonely for a while. His job as a barkeeper takes up most of his social time. On a whim, he decides to go online to a social website. Here he meets Francis... (Scotland x France, Auld Alliance)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**  
The scotsman sighed as he stared at the blank computer screen in front of his eyes. "What the hell am I doing?" Drostan posed the question as if there was an actual person in the room, which there was not. Just air. He stretched in his chair once then pulled up a web browser. Gnawing on his lower lip in contemplation, the male slowly started typing in the google search box 'Meeting Friends'. Yeah, he officially did it. He has become the lowest of the low. Sighing softly, he took out a cigarette before finally clicking on the first website on the list. 'Friendsy' It says. Stupid name, yet he begins on making an account anyway.

Name

Drostan McCallistair Kirkland

Date of Birth

January 12th, 1990

Location

Edinburgh, Scotland

Email Address

McCallistairD12

Password

Confirm Password

About you:

Hello, I guess if you are reading this you have found me on this website and already know my name..._/__Typing_

"This is stupid," he muttered, yet no sound was very audible. When finished, the Scot stood from his desk and wandered into the kitchen, burning butt of the cigarette still in hand. Drostan put the small bit into an ashtray, took out his tea pot and boiled water for a ramen (No, this cheap noodle product is not just in America). After pouring the scalding water into the styrofoam cup, the Scot wandered back into the room housing his computer. He glanced at the screen to find a little icon telling him that he had a message. How amusing, "Popular already, aren't you, Drostan." He chuckled softly, he hadn't even finished the creation of his profile yet.

_Francis: Bonjour! I see you are new, let me introduce myself. I am Francis. I like to think of myself as the person who warmly welcomes any new users to the site. So, yes, Hello! Please, consider me your first friend made on this site and feel free to add anyone you find interesting. If you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them! I may not be the owner of this site, but I think I know my way around. _

Huh. Already. Well, might as well respond, yes?

_You: Errr... Hello. So, what am I supposed to do on this site? I mean, I know that it's in place to make friends and such, but..._

_Francis is typing... _

_Francis: Well, it seems as though you have answered your own question. If you are curious about how to make friends though, you can always go to one of the friends that you have already made and add the friends on their list, or you can enter some interests into your like box and the site will automatically connect you to a page of people with similar interests._

_You: Ah, well thanks..._

_Francis: So, since I am you first friend, (I am assuming), would it be okay if I talked to you regularly?_

_You: Sure, why not?_

_Francis: Ah~ Good. There are a lot of people who say no... Which makes me sad. Well~ Welcome._

_You: Haha... Yeah... _

_Francis: You seem kind of... Tense? I don't know. Just not very... never mind... So, what can you tell me about yourself? How about every fact you give me, I will respond with a fact from myself. _

_You: Er, okay. Well, My name is Drostan... I live in Scotland..._

_Francis: Let's try to move away from the stuff I've already read? _

_You: Heh, well okay... I have four brothers and no sisters, I live alone, except for a cat, Sir Pounce A Lot (Please don't judge the name, he has been around since I was twelve. He's an ancient cat.) _

_Francis: Wow, four? That's nice, I am a single child, but I have an overabundance of cousins. I love the name of your cat too, so he's a Knight? Ohnhonhon~ Don't worry, I'm just teasing. _

Well, this guy has a weird sense of humor, almost stuffy. But nice.

_You: Well, I think it is pretty hard to make a cat a knight when no more exist..._

_Francis: My turn? I too have a cat, she is very... Well, I don't know how to describe her... Her name is Louisa. Perhaps our feline friends should have a playdate together, oui?~_

_You: Maybe... _

_Francis: Awww, you think I am a creeper, don't you? I'm sorry... _

_You: No, it's fine... _

_You: It's just..._

_You: Never mind._

_Francis: Well... Alright then... If you ever want to talk about whatever it is that is concerning you, please, feel free to talk to me. :)_

_You: Uh, alright..._

_Francis: Oh! Would you look at the time! It seems that I have to go. Just message me any time you want to talk again! Au revoir, mon ami!_

_You: Yeah, Bye..._

The Scotsman smiled softly, then glanced at the lower left corner of the computer and quirked a brow. An hour... Huh. It only seemed a few minutes. Sighing softly, he closed his eyes and laid back on the floor, yawning a bit. After staring at the ceiling a few more minutes, he crawled over to his bed, rolled into it, then closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Three months have passed since he first made an account on this site. Forty friends so far. Ten he talked with daily, two that he has actually met in person. It was nice, he supposed, to have a few more friends than he used to. He smiled lightly at his coffee; Drostan was to be meeting one of his friends today, one he hasn't met in person yet. 'Matthias Køhler' was his name. The male was from Denmark and seemed to have a happy attitude. They were to meet in a few hours, so the scot had some time on his hands. With a bit of a sigh, he clicked on the computer and typed in the website's url.

_One new message from: Francis Bonnefoy_  
_Francis: Don't worry, I didn't just send this to you. I sent this to all of my 'friends' on this site. I just wanted to say goodbye to all of you. I'm leaving, permanently. So, farewell. _  
**_This person's account was deleted. If you think that this was a mistake or was hacked, please click _****_here._**

Drostan's face paled, as though he had seen a ghost. His throat and tongue went dry, and even if he had wanted to speak, his lips wouldn't be able to form one coherent sentence. The scot stayed like that, in an emotion induced stupor for a length of time that seemed like days, but, in reality, could only be nothing more than a few minutes. With a thought, his fingers flew across the keyboard, typing in the frenchman's name in a search bar. At a site for french news, the headline of the day was that a man, Francis Bonnefoy, had attempted suicide by driving his car into head on traffic, plunging himself into a comatose state. Once again, Drostan sank into a pool of despair. Some part of him felt like this was his fault. Maybe he should've talked to him more, met him in person, or something like that.

With that feeling of personal guilt resting on his shoulders, he found the hospital that he was in, which, oddly enough, was in London, a seven and a half hour drive from where he lived. Slipping the sleek black phone out from his pocket, he dialed the number for the local club he worked at, saying he was taking the week off. After a bit of protesting, he was freed of his obligation to go to work... For a while...


	3. Chapter 3

After gassing up at the nearest gas station, he started his journey to London. It was a long and depressing drive, as the male thought much upon the mental guilt that wavered over his head precariously. It weighed him down, emotionally, mentally, and almost physically. The nervous tick of biting his lower lip made blood trickle down the corners of his mouth. His brow furrowed as he finally pulled up to the hospital. The male rotated the keys and pulled them out of the ignition, slipping them into his pocket before entering the bland building.

He went to the clerk at the front desk, "Where-" he paused, his voice was hoarse for some reason, cracking, then tried again, "Where is Francis Bonnefoy?" The woman looked up, smiled softly, and ran through her computers. Her smile faded quickly. "Third floor, intensive care unit, room 95... I have to ask how you are related to him before I can let you in though..."  
"I'm just a friend that should have been there for him..." Drostan's voice faltered again. The nurse nodded, merely whispering a faint "sorry..."

The hospital was a cold, emotionless kind of building, full of empty white walls, sterile floors and desolate rooms. He took the elevator to the third floor, glancing at every number plate to find the room. Room 93, 94 and... 95. Hesitantly, he opened the door.

The room was empty besides a bed which was occupied by a young, blonde man. If Drostan had to guess his age, he would estimate about 17, but he knew that the frenchman was at least twenty. His face was pale, bruised and had a line of stitches going up one side of his face. Francis Bonnefoy... Even under all the aftermath that the car had ravaged across his skin, was still beautiful.

The scot choked, gasping as a wave of emotion crashed over him. Drostan walked over to the blonde's side, grasping his barely warm hand. "I'm so sorry... I should've done something for you... I don't know what, but I could've done something!" Why did he feel so... So much because of Francis, yet he barely knew him. Before he could reduce himself into tears, he left the room, found a hotel, and drank himself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The smell of the flowers washed over him as he entered the shop. It was splendid, colours of sapphire red, sky blue, sun yellow and happy orange popped up everywhere. They made him smile.

"Hello sir, is there any way I can help you?" A stout woman with a long blue dress and silvery black hair waddled out from behind the counter. The lines around her face were ones of joy, which she wore like a badge of honor, smiling warmly at me as I entered. "I have a list of all the flowers I have in store here, on the window. Is this for a woman?"With a small, solemn smile, he shook his head, wandering over to the window;

"**GLADIOLUS**: Strength of character, remembrance, infatuation, splendid beauty  
**HONEYSUCKLE**: Bonds of love, generous, devoted affection.  
**ORANGE BLOSSOMS**: Purity, innocence, eternal love, marriage, and fruitfulness, fertility, pure loveliness"  
The first flowers he saw on the list seemed good, and he only paid attention to the meaning of one of them; the first, Gladiolus. "Strength of character and remembrance," he muttered, sighing softly.

"I would like these three arranged, please?" The woman noted the first and went quiet, shuffling away to do her job. About ten minutes later, she came back with a white basket with the flours snugly inside wrapped in a shimmering plastic. "That will be thirty-two pounds..." The money was exchanged and Drostan left with the floral gift, walking to the hospital.


End file.
